Lemon Drops
by belleboza
Summary: <html><head></head>A young girl arrives in Downton, hoping to make things right.</html>
1. Chapter 1

_**This is my very first story ever, ever! Kudos to Julian Fellowes for sparking my creativity which, up until this point, was (and still is!) absolutely zilch! I'm not sure if I'll continue with this; it's something that tinkered away in the back of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea at the time. The story slightly changed from when I first thought of it, but I'm pretty chuffed with the outcome for my first attempt! **_

_**Please feel free to review if you have the time. I don't mind if it's critical. (Honest!) It's just a bit of fluff I thought I'd share. Hope you enjoy it!**_

_**P.S. I don't own any Downton characters, etc, etc. (But I wish I did!)**_

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><p><strong>Lemon Drops<strong>

The morning train pulls to a stop at Downton Station. One by one the carriage doors open and people begin to file out in an orderly fashion. Some run to meet loved ones while others bow their heads and carry on, eager to begin their day.

As the crowds dither away, the very last carriage door opens and a spritely young woman steps out. She's a pretty little thing, about 20 or so with delicate blonde hair tucked under a modest hat; her enticing blue eyes shielded by her hand from the morning sun. She steps down from the train, hesitating for a moment; her light day dress on her slim frame billowing softly beneath her overcoat. Clutching her purse in one hand and a small suitcase in the other, she heads for the exit.

Suddenly, she's in the village of Downton. _"It's very quaint,"_ she speculates as she strolls past the post office and into the main square. All around her there is already the humming of people as the village comes to life. The baker is pulling a fresh batch of bread from the oven. The butcher is showing his young apprentice how to carve a perfect cut of meat. The florist is busy arranging her window display. Children are being shooed to school by their mothers with a kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of hair; their fathers waving as they meander to work.

She closes her eyes and smiles, a warm feeling enveloping her. She feels comfortable here. She could grow very used to Downton.

She stops at the corner of the lane and puts down her suitcase. She pulls a small paper bag from her coat pocket and pops a sherbet lemon drop into her mouth, before opening her purse. She takes out a piece of paper and reads it for the thousandth time. Looking up, she's not sure of which direction to take.

At that moment, the door of the pub opens and the proprietor steps out, clutching a set of chairs for an outside table. She picks up her suitcase and walks over to him. _"Excuse me,"_ she says in a soft English accent, "_I'm looking for Downton Abbey. Would you please tell me if I am going in the right direction?" _

"_Of course, miss."_ The jolly man smiles down at her. _"You certainly are going in the right direction. If you just carry on up that lane there,"_ he points in the direction she was heading, _"it will lead you straight to it. It's on the left. Big house, so you can't miss it!"_ he chuckles. She smiles and offers him a lemon drop which he gladly accepts. Nodding her thanks, she continues on her way.

Standing at the gate, she's awestruck at the magnificent building in front of her. He wasn't kidding when he said she couldn't miss it. It certainly is beautiful. She quickly looks back to see if anyone is around and takes a deep breath before walking up the driveway. She notices the gardeners tending to the lawns as she walks. She hears birds chirping in the trees surrounding the grounds. As she nears the house, she's sure she hears someone screeching a name that sounds like Daisy.

She stands for a moment at the front door, contemplating what she's about to do. Any doubts she has, she shakes off with a shrug of her shoulders. She doesn't have any choice. She _needs_ to do this. _"Now or never,"_ she whispers inwardly. Taking another deep breath, she rings the doorbell.

She waits patiently for someone to answer. When the door opens, a tall, aging man stands before her. He ruffles his brow at her with curiosity. _"Good morning," _he says in a rather booming voice that catches her by surprise, _"how may I help you?"_

She gulps to regain her composure. _"Good morning,"_ she smiles, showing perfect white teeth. _"I am very sorry to bother you so early, but I was wondering if it would be possible to speak to Lord Grantham?"_

The gentleman shifts slightly, clearly miffed as to why this young woman would want to speak with His Lordship. _"Do you have an appointment?"_

"_N-no," _she stammers, _"but it is very important that I speak with him. I'm only in town for today and won't take up much of him time,"_ she promises.

The gentleman stares at her for a moment. He registers the suitcase in her hand, unsure of what to say next. She notices this. She stares back at him, the pleading in her eyes all too obvious.

"_Very well,"_ he says finally. _"Follow me."_ She murmurs a silent prayer and follows him inside.

"_May I?"_ he asks her, pointing at her suitcase.

"_Oh, yes, thank you."_ She hands it to him gratefully, relieved to be rid of its weight. She steps forward, her jaw dropping in astonishment at the sight of the great hall. "_Incredible," _she breathes.

"_In here,"_ the gentleman calls, standing in a doorway. She follows his voice, eyes not leaving her astonishing surroundings.

He leads her into what she believes is the library. She has never seen so many books in one room. "_Please, make yourself comfortable."_ The gentleman's voice cuts through her thoughts, indicating her to sit down.

"_Thank you,"_ she replies, politely sitting in a chair opposite from where he is standing.

"_I'll just fetch His Lordship,"_ he explains. _"Who may I say is calling?"_

"_Amie. Amie Brown,"_ she clasps her hands demurely on her lap, _"on village hall business." _She noticed a sign regarding the hall outside the post office on her arrival and kept it fresh in her mind.

"_Very well, I shan't be long,"_ he declares, heading for the door.

"_Thank you, Mr..." _she pauses.

"_Carson,"_ he interjects, _"I am Mr. Carson, the butler here at Downton Abbey."_ He gives her a polite nod.

"_Thank you, Mr. Carson,"_ she beams as he leaves the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Carson returns, followed by Lord Grantham. She rises to meet them both.

"_Miss. Amie Brown for you, m'Lord,"_ Mr. Carson introduces her as Lord Grantham moves forward to greet her_._

"_Delighted to meet you, Miss. Brown,"_ he grins. _"Welcome to Downton."_

She takes his hand and lightly shakes it. _"The pleasure is all mine, Your Lordship. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet me at such short notice", _she chirps,_" And your home is beautiful,"_ she adds, marvelling at the room.

"_Not at all, dear, not at all,"_ he waves his hand nonchalantly. _"Are you new to Downton? I do not recall seeing you in the village before." _

"_Yes," _she replies, _"I've just arrived on the morning train from London." _

"_Goodness, you must be famished! Carson..."_ Lord Grantham turns and calls the butler who stands to attention. "_Please bring up a breakfast tray for Miss. Brown, welcome her to Downton properly."_ He winks at the butler who responds by nodding his head and making his departure.

"_Now, then,"_ he signals her to sit on the sofa with him. "_Carson tells me you are involved with the rejuvenation of our village hall. I do wonder what attracted you to our humble town, you being a London girl and all. But I'm always keen to hear new concepts from a fresh pair of eyes. Keeps things interesting around here, I think,"_ he remarks with vigour. _"So, what are your ideas?" _

She stares at him momentarily without saying anything. _"Well, I..."_ she begins. He sits patiently, awaiting the explanation of her visit. She's thinking of something to say but her mind is blank. Nerves engulfing her, she opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

She can't do this. She knows she must, but she can't. It's wrong, it's all wrong.

Her hands begin to sweat beneath her gloves. Her fingers are wringing the handle of her purse. She looks around her, regretting coming to Downton, to this house. She's feeling faint. She has to get out of here.

Lord Grantham is staring at her, concern etched all over his face. _"Miss. Brown, are you alright?"_ He places a hand on her arm but she doesn't feel it. Her mind is a whirlpool of thoughts but none of them make any sense.

She stands up, stumbling a little, looking for a way out. _"I-I-I'm sorry,"_ she stammers. _"I shouldn't have come here."_

She races for a door, any door, panic rising in her chest. He chases after her. Grabbing her arm, she tries to pull away from him. But he gently turns her to face him, holding the edge of her shoulders. _"What on earth is the matter, child?"_ He can feel her shaking beneath his grasp. _"Please tell me. If you don't mind my saying, your face has gone a ghostly shade of white."_

She stares into the eyes of this man she doesn't even know. A man she met mere minutes ago who is offering her nothing but kindness. _"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,"_ she manages.

Lord Grantham looks at her, completely speechless. _"Sorry for what, my dear? You haven't done anything wrong."_

She clutches her hands to her chest. _"Oh, but I have,"_ she sobs as she rocks herself. Lord Grantham is searching her face, eager for some sort of answer to the girl's heartache. But all he can do is hold onto her in fear of her collapsing.

"_I'm not Amie Brown,"_ she continues. Her eyes are wide with fear. _"I'm not here about the village hall. I- I'm not even English."_

She brings her hands to her face and shakes her head. She doesn't know what to say anymore. She can't make it sound any better.

Lord Grantham stares at her in disbelief, his hands keeping a firm but protective grip of her. _"I don't understand,"_ he whispers. _"Who are you?"_

She drops her hands and stares at him, his worry and compassion for her all too clear to see.

Can she trust this man? Can she tell him her secret? Can he help her?

"_Now or never."_

She closes her eyes one more time before inhaling deeply.

"_My name is Amelia."_ Her voice changes to a distinctive Irish accent. _"John Bates is my father."_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks for reviewing! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. I'm the biggest softie, so I admit, I've had to dig deep on this one. I could barely proof read it without welling up. So if it's a bit off in some places, I apologise in advance. (And I hope I don't upset you!) **_

_**Just so we're clear, I'm basing this just after Anna visited Mrs. Bates and just before the war is announced. But I'm considering skipping the war. (I hope that makes sense?)**_

_**Again, I do not own any Downton characters, etc, etc. (But I wish I did!)**_

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><p><strong>Lemon Drops - Chapter 2<strong>

They stare at each other in stunned silence. His body sags a little at the shock of her revelation. Her heartbeat increases as she awaits his reaction.

"_Bates?"_ Lord Grantham stutters, _"Your father?"_

She nods. She doesn't know what to say anymore. This wasn't the plan.

Lord Grantham stares at her incredulously. _Bates. A father._ He repeats the words over and over in his head. He's known Bates for years. How could he keep this a secret?

A lump forms in her throat at the enormity of what she's just done. She doesn't want to cause any trouble. She barely knows who this man is yet she's telling him her most intimate details.

He can't believe this. Bates was his batman, his right hand man. He's his _valet_ for goodness sake, and he didn't even know he has a daughter!

His gaze returns to her as silent tears begin to roll down her face. He quickly releases her and leads her back to the sofa.

"_I'm so sorry to do this to you,"_ Amelia bleats, her natural accent in full flow.

He turns entirely to give her his full attention.

"_Listen to me very carefully."_ His voice commands her attention and she listens intently. "_You are not in any trouble. You have done nothing wrong. I know your father very well. Why he hasn't acknowledged you, I do not know. But I do know he will be delighted...no, __**ecstatic **__to see you."_

"_I know. I know who you are and your history with my father. But I do not want him to know that I am here. Not yet." _

"_But..." _

She shakes her head. _"Not yet."_

"_But I don't understand!"_ he cries. "_Why wouldn't you want to be reunited with him as soon as possible?"_

She sighs a little, her face reflecting wisdom beyond her years. _"Because he wouldn't even recognise me." _

His mouth drops open as she placates, _"He hasn't seen me for several years."_

"_What about your mother?"_

A laugh escapes her lips, small and bitter. "_Let's just say my mother isn't exactly the maternal type. I haven't seen her for a long time, also."_

"_Your parents were married?"_ he affirms. His mind is slowly forgetting they're even talking about Bates. It feels like they are discussing a different person.

As she nods, he sits back slightly, his mind overloaded with all of this information.

"_Why haven't you seen them for so long?"_ he exasperates.

"_They were unable to care for me. It was decided it was best for me to be taken away from them."_

"_By whom?" _

"_My grandmother," _she replies flatly.

"_Where did you go?"_

"_A convent in Ireland."_

_"Did you ever want to come back?"_

_"Every day. To my father, anyway. But my grandmother kept saying it wasn't the right time. She promised it would come eventually. I rested all my hopes on that. But he got worse, not better. And then he was arrested," _she murmers._ "Of course, afterwards, he established a new life here, in Downton. So my grandmother thought the time was right and sent for me. And here I am."_

_"And he has no idea your grandmother was responsible for sending you away or kept in touch?"_

Her glance says everything.

_"Did she ever visit?"_

_"Oh yes, many times. And her letters were regular. I was always part of the family. It just wasn't feasible for anyone to know it at the time."_

He pauses for a moment, struggling to find something constructive to say.

"_He wasn't a bad father,"_ she offers. _"Life just changed him. You of all people should know the effect the war had on him." _

Yes, he couldn't argue with that.

_"He was a different person when he came home. He was torn, resentful. He still lavished me with love, mind you, but couldn't care less about the rest of the world." _

"_He was violent?"_ He almost dreads her answer. The Bates he knows would never be such a character.

"_Vocally, yes. He was at war with himself and blamed everyone else for it. My grandmother tolerated it. She understood his frustrations and didn't take it to heart. But my mother..." _she shakes her head wistfully, _"She abhorred him...and me. She wasn't the apple of his eye anymore and she didn't like it. She wanted a hero and she got a broken man. In some ways she bore the brunt of his aggression. But trust me, she earned it." _

"_What about you? Did you witness it? His aggression, that is?" _

"_Sometimes. It was never aimed at me though, and my mother gave as good as she got...but I suppose when you're drunk, you sometimes forget the company you keep. There was some happiness though."_

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the small paper bag, dispensing its contents into Lord Grantham's hand.

"_Lemon drops?" _His face contracts quizzically.

_"He used to buy them for me as a treat. Now, I always have one when I feel nervous."_

Lord Grantham is astonished. And yet, he admires this girl. Despite her shortcomings, she is an extremely astute and intelligent young woman.

"_What was it like?"_ he gently probes. _"What was life like for you then?" _

She doesn't answer. Her mind is drifting back to that 7 year old child. And the memories come flooding back.

_The streets of London have a foul stench as she is dragged barefoot down an old cobblestone alley. The jagged rocks cut into her delicate skin but her mother keeps a steady pace. She looks up. The sky is grey, the air musty. She wants to go home but she knows her punishment if she dares question her mother. _

_She misses a step and falls to the ground. The impact causes her mother to pull back. She spins round, her eyes full of venom. She sees the helpless little bundle lying on the ground trying not to cry. Grabbing her by the hair, she relishes the screams as she lowers herself to her daughter's level. _

"_Yer think tha's painful? Yer should 'a seen me givin' birth ter a parasite like you!" she spits._

_Her shoulders shudder with sobs but she tries her best not to let them out. Hoisting her up straight, her mother grabs her arm and resumes her pace. _

"_A hero," she mutters to herself. "A hero tha' useless lump wanted to come 'ome as. Someone I could be proud 'a ter call me 'usband. Just yer luck then, eh Vera? All those empty promises, all tha' plannin' yer did. All those months yer spent 'ere waitin' fir him ter come 'ome a hero. An' wha' do yer get? A drunk! A drunk an' a...__**cripple**__."__She seethes as she says the word. _

_Amelia looks up at her mother, fear and confusion mixed on her face. She doesn't know what she's talking about and she doesn't have the nerve to ask. "Never question mummy," her mind tells her._

"_Makin' me wander the streets while he's off drunk wi' every whore in London. Who would want him wi' tha' bloody plank 'a wood at his side anyway?" _

_They stop in front of a big wooden door and Vera returns her gaze to her daughter. The little girl's breath is ragged, exhaustion seeping through her bones now her mother's frantic race has come to a halt. _

"_Say a word an' I'll kill yer," her mother threatens._

_Her body shakes with fear but she understands. _

_Her mother knocks on the door and an old woman answers. She takes in their dishevelled appearances and fixes a stern look on Vera. _

"_Penny fir the child," Vera begs, clasping her hands in mercy. _

_The old woman's gaze doesn't falter. She lingers for a second, ready to turn them away when she realises the child's feet are bleeding. Her face quickly changes to horror. _

"_That child must see a doctor immediately!" she scolds._

_Vera hesitates for a moment. She hadn't banked on this happening. "Quick, Vera, quick!" her head urges her._

"_Yer see, I would...take her to the doctor, tha' is," she babbles. "But her father drunk all the money we 'ave. The poor child 'asn't eaten in days." _

_A delicious smile plays across Vera's lips but her face remains in its pleading state. _

_The old woman stares at the little girl sorrowfully. She keeps her eyes firmly on the ground just as her mother warned her. But her spirit is crushed. She wants to go home to her daddy. He doesn't make her walk barefoot to strange houses. He lets her go to school. And he tells her he loves her every day, and lets her sit on his lap to read her a story. Mummy never tells her she loves her. She makes her do horrible things. She's supposed to be in school right now but mummy never takes her. And she will tell daddy when he asks that she's stupid and doesn't pay attention in class. But Amelia's not stupid! Daddy will realise that. He knows everything. _

"_Wait here," the old woman barks at Vera. She goes inside and comes back a few moments later. "What are your names?" _

_Vera stares at her in confusion._

"_I am __**personal**__ friends with the doctor and I shall be sure to inquire that the child receives the appropriate medical treatment," she finishes. _

"_Oh...yes..." Vera mumbles. "The name is Agnes...Agnes Birch. And this is Margaret," she points towards her daughter._

"_Very well," the old woman sighs holding out a half crown. "This should be sufficient enough to buy food and pay for the child's medical care."_

_Vera snatches it greedily and bows her head dramatically. "God bless yer, Mrs!" she cries._

_The old woman gazes back at the child and pats her head affectionately. "Look after yourself, young lady," she instructs her gently._

_She raises her head slightly and gives the old woman a grin before her mother takes her by the arm and leads her down the street. She's grateful she's going to see the doctor. Her feet are on fire, the blood beginning to crust on her skin. She hopes the doctor isn't too far away. She can't bear to go much further._

_But they don't go to the doctor. Her mother takes a different route and instructs her to stand outside a building. She's getting cold now. Her feet are numb with blisters. There are old men everywhere. Some are falling down and shouting. She doesn't like this. She wants her daddy._

_Suddenly, her mother swings out of the door, arm in arm with two men. A brown paper bag is tucked under her arm, a bottle in her hand._

"_A half crown! An' the ol' bag didn't know any different!" she cackles! _

_The two men clutch their stomachs laughing, hover for a moment and wave their goodbyes._

"_C'mon you," she snarls at her daughter. "Let's get yer 'ome afore yer father 'as an 'eart attack." _

_She walks away, only to look back when the child doesn't move. She's staring at her feet. They're still covered in blood._

"_Oh, I forgot about tha'." She swaggers over and unceremoniously pours some liquid from the bottle onto her daughter's fragile skin. She screams in agony as the liquid burns into her flesh, causing her to fall to the ground. _

"_An' yer should be bloody grateful! Tha's good booze am usin' ter clean yer up!" she shouts. "But I don't suppose yer father will be too 'appy seein' yer in tha' state. It'll jus' be another excuse fir 'im to shout the odds. We'll stop at the chemist an' get yer cream on the way 'ome. Now 'urry up afore it gets dark!"_

_She shifts awkwardly, the pain almost unbearable. But at least she's going home. Her daddy will make her feel better. He'll tell her everything will be alright and no one will be mean to her ever again. _

_And with that notion, she chases after her mother faster than her poor little feet will allow her._

"_It was tough_," she finally answers,_"but I got by."_

She lowers her head slightly and smiles from the corner of her mouth, her eyes shielding the pain and misery of her life that battles to shine through.

And in that moment, Lord Grantham realises she is the absolute image of her father.

He takes her hand and grips it tightly. "_I want to help. Tell me how I can help."_

She pats his hand appreciatively. She's glad she confided in him. Her instincts are beginning to prove her right.

"_I just want to make sure he's alright. My disapperance was beyond his control. Life has changed for both of us and I need to know that my past is content before I continue with my future."_

"_Then you shall. Do you have anywhere to stay?"_

She shakes her head.

"_Then you shall stay here."_

"_Oh no, I..."_

"_No arguments. There is plenty of space in the servant's quarters, I am sure our housekeeper will find a room for you. I gather you have no employment either?" _

She shakes her head again. _"I shall be starting at King's College next summer to study nursing."_

"_Excellent! You can help Cousin Isobel at the local hospital. She will love having someone around to pass on her wisdom to. It will give you a head start when you begin your studies."_

She doesn't know what to say. Just like that, everything is fixed. All she can manage is, _"Thank you, Lord Grantham. Thank you so much." _

He leans closer to her. _"My dear, I have a lot of time for your father, which means I have a lot of time for you."_

They are interrupted by the return of Mr. Carson.

"_My Lord, I have been informed that Mrs. Patmore is about to serve breakfast in the servant's hall and invite Miss. Brown to join us if she wishes so."_

Lord Grantham stares at her, unsure of what to say.

She looks at the butler dubiously before answering, _"Thank you, Mr. Carson. That would be most kind." _The return of her English accent answers the question Lord Grantham doesn't need to ask.

"_Thank you, Carson. I shall escort Miss. Brown myself and introduce her to everyone."_

The butler nods and makes his way back to the servant's hall.

"_Are you sure?"_ Lord Grantham asks her. _"You do know what this entails?"_

She does. She's ready.

"_I'm with you all the way." _

She smiles and he leads her out of the library.

They walk through the house in amiable silence. She admires its opulence while she prepares herself mentally for what is about to come. She hasn't seen her father in almost 12 years. It's a moment she thought would never come. Lord Grantham appreciates the significance of this and allows her the time to think.

As they near the servant's hall, the air is buzzing with activity. Noise and clatter comes from every direction. Her heartbeat quickens. Her breath becomes a faint whisper. As Lord Grantham walks beside her, he stops her a moment, stepping ahead to allow her some last minute composure.

He turns slightly and she nods her approval. _Now or never._

He reaches out and gives her hand a quick squeeze.

"_I'm with you all the way,"_ he promises.

She gulps and follows him through the doorway.

The entire room comes to a standstill as everyone rises to acknowledge His Lordship's presence.

"_Good morning, everyone. I am sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I was keen to introduce the newest addition to our household. Please welcome Miss. Amie Brown."_

A sea of faces focus on her but only one catches her eye.

He's here...he's really here! Her daddy is he-

He's staring straight at her.


End file.
